More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
We slept at the club, and the next morning around 10 a.m. Smelly discovered that they didn’t lock the bar. He grabbed a bottle of Jägermeister, said, “This is MY breakfast!” and downed half the fucking thing before we even loaded into the van. He went from lucid to plowed in about ten minutes. Three hours later, we pulled into Amsterdam and everyone got out of the van. Smelly sat down on the curb, then slowly lay down, and then passed out. He had laid his head in a pile of dog shit.
couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes later that I had bonded with him so closely that I said, “Wanna see my strawberry farm?” and pulled down my pants to show him my herpes blisters.
For all the lessons Raymond imparted to me, he never mentioned you’re not supposed to rip epic farts in a cell. Being the goof-off I am, I did just that and waited for everyone to laugh. But in jail farting isn’t funny, it’s disrespectful. Some older cholo guy got in my face and made it clear that I had fucked up. The mood in the room went from casual fun to seriously tense. Our respective racial groups took us to neutral corners, and I avoided getting murdered once again.
